Starstruck
by Crimson Elemental Alchemist
Summary: Renée has an older sister! A new Cyniclon shows up and claims to have no interest in overtaking humanity! Hell freezes over and all the world changes for both sides as Nature, Herself, finally decides to reach forth her hand to salvage the Earth...
1. My Home

_Disclaimer: I do not own _MewMew Power_ or it's Japanese version _Tokyo MewMew_._

_Crimson: Yeah, yeah. I know. It's another one. Sorry, I haven't been working much on my others. Fresh ideas and all, you know. I'll never discontinue any of my fanfictions, though, so no worries there. I'll update eventually._

_READ ON!_

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**Chapter One–**

**My Home**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

_"This place is many things, but I'd never call it home. It's just a building and a city everywhere I go...."_

A breeze swept over the rooftops of the downtown area of the city, finding a girl–who appeared to be around twelve or thirteen years old–swinging her legs over the edge of a tall building. Her silver hair danced on that gust of wind, twisting and turning around her snow-white face. Ice-blue eyes stared, unseeingly, at the cloudless sky as her dreams took her to a completely different world. A realm where adventures happened every day and this humdrum life she currently lived was nothing more than an unpleasant memory.

A contented sigh escaped her coal-black lips, blowing a few loose strands of her hair out of her face. One frail hand–complete with black-colored fingernails–reached upwards as if trying to capture the brightly-glowing orb known as the sun. She splayed her fingers out, watching the light split between them as warmth seeped into the palm of her hand.

"Soon," she began in a melodic voice, speaking to no one in particular, "I'll be seeing you, little sister." Sadness filled her eyes–heartbreaking and gut-wrenching–as she thought back to the reasons why she'd had to move here–to an unfamiliar city. Another gust of wind combed through her hair then, stroking her cheek in what she considered a reassuring matter. She let her eyelids fall over her turquoise eyes as she basked in the comfort the wind had brought her. It didn't take long for her tranquility to be disrupted, though.

"Sitting on the edge like that could get you killed, you know, little girl," an unfamiliar voice whispered into her ear suddenly. Warm breath caressed the skin of her neck, making her shiver.

With a start of realization, the girl jumped to her feet and whipped around to see who could have possibly snuck up on her. It just wasn't possible! No one could get that close to her without her realizing it!

Before she could get a good look at the intruder, someone shoved her to the concrete of the rooftop. Her breath came out in a great whoosh as the impact jarred into her back. Stars sparkled in her eyes, temporarily blinding her. The girl blinked furiously in an attempt to clear her vision. Panic was starting to set in as her efforts proved fruitless even though a handful of seconds had yet to pass.

"Silly girl, I had no idea any human would be this brave . . . or this foolish," the voice continued with a sneer. A simmering heat began to stir in the girl's chest at this point. She hated to be looked down upon in anyway. Still, it wasn't as if she could _do _anything about it. Pushing the useless emotion down into the pit of her stomach, the trapped girl focused on memorizing every detail about her captor that she possibly could. Even without her sight, she could still hear his voice and feel whatever parts of his body were pressed tightly against her own as he pinned her to the ground.

"And I've never seen anyone look the way you do . . . ." this time, instead of disdain, the boy's (for she could tell that it was obviously male) voice held obvious appreciation. "What's your name, Girlie?" he asked suddenly, confusing the girl with his abrupt attitude change.

She simply lay there, not answering. A bone-crushing tightening on her wrists where he held her provoked an uncharacteristic whimper from her throat. She decided that giving the boy her name wouldn't hurt–and, more importantly, would get him to stop hurting _her. _"Lyra," she admitted calmly, still trying to blink past the bright lights splayed over her vision. She realized now that it was mostly the sun glaring down at her directly overhead that kept them there. With difficulty–and trying not to look too obvious–Lyra moved her head a couple of inches into the shadows. This was just enough for her face to be completely out of the sun's reach. A new problem, however, cropped up, although she wasn't aware of it yet: she was now directly beneath the stranger's face.

"Hmm. 'Lyra'?" he repeated slowly, as if rolling the name on his tongue. After a sudden snicker from the boy, Lyra felt something brush against her lips. It didn't take her long to realize what it was.

The girl froze, muscles stiffening. Her vision was beginning to clear, but she was quickly growing impatient. Now she absolutely _had_ to see this boy!

"Well, Lyra-chan!" he went on as if nothing had happened. "Until next time!" And with that, the weight pinning her to the rooftop suddenly disappeared. Lyra felt a ripple in the air, a strange breeze–ice-cold and somehow dark–moving over her prone form. In a second, it was gone. She was now staring at the sky once more. A few stray clouds had appeared in the few moments she had been _distracted_. Lyra watched them as they moved at a snail-like pace across the expanse of blue. She brought her hand to her lips, brushing her fingers over the still-warm feeling blooming across them from the feathery kiss.

"Well," she mused, her voice dancing on the breeze playing through her bangs, "this city might have more to offer than I first thought."


	2. Break the Silence

_**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**MewMew Power**_** or **_**Tokyo MewMew**_**.**_

_**Crimson: I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but I'm going off the **_**MewMew Power**_** anime instead of the **_**Tokyo MewMew **_**one. In other words here are how the characters, etc are going to be classified as:**_

_** English Name (MewMew Power)/Japanese Name(TMM)**_

Blue Knight/Blue Knight

Bridget Verdant/Lettuce Midorikawa

Corina Bucksworth/Minto Aizawa

Kikki Benjamin/Pudding Phon

Renée Roberts/Zakuro Fujiwara

Zoey Hanson/Ichigo Momomiya

Dren/Kisshu

Sardon/Pai

Tarb/Taruto

Deep Blue/Deep Blue

Elliot Grant/Ryou Shirogane

Wesley J. Coolridge III/Keiichiro Akasaka

Mark/Masaya Aoyama

Mini Mew/Masha/ R2000

Predasites/Chimera Animals

_Crimson: I figured this would be best so readers don't have to keep looking on google to see who's who. I know my sister had some problems with identifying who Pai and Taruto were, etc. when she read another of my fics. _

_Dren: Are we really named after desserts? **referring to Japanese names**_

_Crimson: Well, sorta. Not Lettuce, Minto, Zakuro, and Ichigo. They're different foods. _

_Dren: **sweatdrops** But it's still food . . . ._

_Crimson: Yeah? And?_

_Dren: . . . . Never mind._

_Crimson: K? Anyway, I've found something out last night. I read part of the manga _Tokyo Mew Mew_ for the first time and found something out: I really don't like Masaya Aoyama (Mark). He's such a ditz! And, for some reason, his tree- hugger nature was getting on my nerves. And Kisshu is waaaaaayyy cuter than him._

_Dren: Really? **smirks**_

_Crimson: **blushes** READ ON!_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Two–**

**Break the Silence**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

_"You make me feel so alive that I'm trying hard not to make use of the wrong place and time . . . ."_

"Sister?!" the girls cried in unison. They all stopped dead in their tracks, still in their waitress uniforms, as they gaped at the fifteen-year-old supermodel.

"Yes," Renée Roberts simply answered, ignoring their incredulous stares. Flipping back a lock of her long, violet hair, the teenager turned back to her locker to gather her things so she could get out of the cute café ASAP.

Corina held up her index finger importantly, signaling for the other girls to quiet down. Being the hugest fan of Renée Roberts there ever was, the rich girl knew every single detail about her. Even the star's own family. "Of course Renée has a sister!" she exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Zoey cringed, an annoyed tic pulsing at her temple. Bridget smiled nervously, patting the redhead's shoulder in a reassuring manner. Kikki ignored the snobby attitude of her older friend, having gotten used to it by now. Curiosity lit in her golden eyes as she bounced up and down in anticipation for the juicy details Corina was about to present to them.

"Her name's Lyra Roberts. She's sixteen years old. Blood type O. Ice-blue eyes and gorgeous silver hair. She loves animals and excels in acrobatics, but hates anything pink and detests sweets." As she talked about Renée's sibling, Corina's eyes lit up. Stars were dancing within their depths. Apparently, Renée wasn't the blue-haired girl's only obsession. "And she's supposed to be even more beautiful than Renée, although I don't know how that's possible." She snuck a glance at the model, hoping that she didn't hurt the older girl's feelings. She was unexpectedly rewarded with a warm smile. Her heart did a double back-flip in her chest.

"Yes. That sounds like her," Renée verified, still grinning. "She is beautiful, but in a different way than I am." Stuffing her things into a shoulder-bag, the famous actress eased her locker door shut. She spun the lock automatically as her friends talked amongst themselves.

"Ooh! Do you have a picture of her that I can see, Corina?" Zoey Hanson asked excitedly, eyes glittering in expectation. Her angry tic came back at the snobby attitude that answered her plea.

"Not one that you can see," Corina huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "I wouldn't want your _dirty hands_ to smudge it." Her eyelids closed over her brown eyes as she turned her nose up imperiously.

Renée snorted at that. All attention focused on her in an instant. The older girl hardly ever snickered, especially at something Corina had said. "She doesn't have any photographs of Lyra. My sister doesn't model. She hates getting her picture taken," Renée explained, stepping around the small group to reach the door.

"Really?" Bridget questioned. Confusion creased her brow. "But then how did Corina get all that information about her? Wouldn't that mean she's famous?" The green-haired girl looked from Renée to Corina then back again.

For a moment, it looked like neither of them was going to answer, but then Renée let out a defeated sigh and turned her back on the door.

"Lyra is more of a 'behind-the-scenes' kind of girl," she explained as simply as possible. "She actually wrote my first big hit, 'Butterfly Wings'."

"Then why doesn't she have any photographs?" Kikki asked innocently, looking up at her "Older Sister".

Renée hesitated before she answered that question. "She prefers to stay out of the spotlight," she replied carefully.

"Oh," the little girl said simply. The answer seemed reasonable enough.

Zoey and Bridget glanced at one another, but didn't press their friend for details. Corina, meanwhile, simply admired her icon's mysterious stance and flawless appearance.

As Renée opened the door, she tossed a glance back at her comrades. "Well, I'll see you guys tomorrow morning for patrol." And, with a last wave of farewell, Renée exited the locker room.

Zoey turned back to Corina, a worried expression on her face. "Do you think something might be wrong with her sister?"

Corina snapped back to reality and glared pointedly at the redhead. "Of course not! Renée was simply anxious to get home to see her. After all," she trailed off, her eyes drifting off to the side dreamily, "they haven't seen each other for three years now . . . ."

* * *

The hot water pounded over her white skin, working to relieve sore muscles as she massaged the shampoo into her scalp. The white of the lather blended in so well with the colorless strands of hair that she could hardly tell if she was effectively cleaning it at all. It was the bubbles sprouting up all over her head that gave it away.

The scent of watermelon–clean and sharp–wafted around her much like the steam from her shower did. Lyra allowed herself to relax for the first time in several hours, but refused to get too comfortable. That nagging feeling of being watched still remained.

Opening her ice-blue eyes, the girl pulled back a corner of the black shower curtain. She peeked into the surrounding bathroom, but nothing out of place met her searching gaze. A frown curved her pale-pink lips at that. Even as she replaced the now-soaking edge of the curtain, she felt the presence return to the room. Grinding her teeth together, nerves making way for agitation, Lyra snapped her towel from its place in the back of the shower, well away from the stream of water. With the white fabric wrapped securely around her body, Lyra yanked back the shower curtain completely and stepped out into the seemingly-empty room. She hadn't even bothered to rinse out the shampoo still lathered into her hair.

"Come on out! I know you're there!" she demanded, ice-blue eyes flicking everywhere in search of the intruder. Unbeknownst to her, a stream of suds silently made a trail to her brow. She yelped as a sudden burning sensation hit her eyes. Momentarily forgetting about her stalker, Lyra crouched on the floor, rubbing furiously at the agonizing sensation in her eye sockets.

As soon as she had shut her eyes against any more sneaky suds, the sensation of not being alone returned to the large bathroom.

Blinking the soap unsuccessfully out of her eyes, Lyra tried desperately to take a look around. She froze when that familiar voice registered in her ears once more.

"Got something in your eye, honey?" the strange boy asked.

_'Yes, Captain Obvious,'_ Lyra snarled in her head, but aloud she said, "What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?!"

"Didn't know it was _your_ bathroom," he returned with a hint of amusement in his tone. "I pick my toys real well. I got myself a rich girl," the mysterious boy remarked. Lyra couldn't tell if he was proud of that fact or simply awed by his stroke of luck.

"And your point is?" Lyra urged, rubbing a small bit of soap out of her eyes. They still burned too much for her to see properly, and her hands–already covered in soap suds–didn't improve matters. Damn! Every time he showed up, she couldn't see him! She couldn't very well give the police a description of his voice: it was cute and sexy with a bit of a whine to it as if he was used to getting his way . . . . Then again, it wasn't as if she would give any information to the cops. This was the most excitement she's had in three years . . . .

She suddenly felt a pressure on her closed eyelids–something that felt like a cloth. The touch was gentle and feathery-light as if afraid to hurt her. That familiar sensation of annoyance twisted in her gut, but Lyra pushed it back down. This was no time to get upset over the fact that anyone who saw her thought she was a helpless little girl.

"There! That's better, isn't it?" the boy exclaimed. Lyra felt the touch disappear from her face and she cracked open her eyes. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

"What?" the green-haired alien asked innocently, still holding the soapy hanky in one hand. It was yellow with lace around the edges and a pink "Z" stitched in one corner. For some reason, Lyra doubted that the girly piece of fabric actually belonged to him . . . .

"Um, nothing," Lyra replied, cocking her head curiously at him. He sure seemed familiar . . . .

The boy's over-large ears twitched nervously at the look she gave him. His forest-green hair was tied off with brown bands on both sides of his face, hanging just below his shoulders. The clothing he wore was definitely strange–a combination of black and browns with a trim of red. His skin appeared just as pale as Lyra's, except for the fact that his skin tone was oddly different. More _colorless _than it should have been. His fashion statement clearly showed a good expanse of his white flesh, revealing a thin midriff and most of his legs. Golden eyes narrowed in suspicion at the calm reaction the human had upon seeing an alien in her shower. Speaking of which.

"Your towel is slipping," the alien pointed out. Not knowing the meaning of courtesy (or modesty for that matter), he didn't avert his gaze from the revealing attire as it shifted ever-so slowly down the girl's chest.

"What's your name?" Lyra asked, ignoring what should be a highly-embarrassing situation. The only modicum of shyness she revealed was in the movement of her hand to her chest as she held the towel in place.

_'She's not like other girls,' _the Cyniclon thought to himself in bemusement, forcing his eyes back to the girl's face and off the precarious grip she had on the edge of the white towel. _'The Kitty-cat would have slapped me by now, at least.'_ As his thoughts drifted off to his other toy, the alien failed to notice the annoyed expression passing over Lyra's face. A painful yank on his pigtails brought him back to reality.

"Yeow!" he cried, rubbing either side of his head. "What was that for?" He glared at the girl sitting calmly in front of him. His eyes widened marginally. No emotion was visible upon the girl's features. He'd never seen the like of her before.

"For not answering my question," she answered simply, trying not to let the irritation boiling in the pit of her stomach show in her voice. Where did the guy get off peeping on her, then go off daydreaming when she was trying to get answers out of him? The nerve of some people! "What is your name?" she repeated, this time slowly and pronouncing each syllable with greater emphasis as if speaking to a child. Inwardly, Lyra smirked as the perverted boy's face grew red from a combination of anger and embarrassment.

"Well, you aren't any fun! The name's 'Dren'," the alien admitted grudgingly. With a huff, he crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back. Only then did Lyra realize that he was floating, cross-legged, in the air.

"Oh," was all Lyra said to that. She rocked back on her heels as she racked her brain to see where she had heard that name before. Another thought came up before that though. "Why did you kiss me before? On the roof?" she asked, instead, glancing up at the alien as he dropped a foot in order to be closer to her current eye-level.

Dren stared at her for a minute before a wicked smirk played over his lips. "Seemed like a good idea. Kissing a pretty girl, you know. It's always a treat!" he answered with a chuckle. Leaning forward so that his stomach faced the floor, Dren moved several inches nearer the girl's face. "Why? Having a sweet tooth?" he asked wickedly, his grin revealing his abnormally-sharp canines. He frowned as not even a shiver ran over the girl's skin as his hot breath fanned her face. Curious (and getting a little frustrated), Dren inched closer until he could feel their noses touching.

"Not really," she spoke tersely. The emotionless tone she had used before had disappeared, being replaced with an edge of obvious-restraint. "I don't care for sweets." The very thought of any sugary cuisine–drenched in or filled with a gelatinous mixture–made her stomach turn. For some reason, she couldn't stand the bite candy had on her taste buds. She'd gotten hell for it as a child–her being the only one blatantly refusing any offering of sugar.

"I'm sure we can cure that," Dren stated matter-of-factly, sure of himself as ever. He tried to close the distance between their mouths, but Lyra suddenly pulled back. A sigh of frustration whooshed out of him. This girl may be interesting, indeed, and would, no doubt, make an excellent toy. But the process of "breaking her in" was going to take _forever_ . . . .

"Nee-san?" Lyra murmured to herself, but, being as close as he was, Dren heard her.

He had failed to catch the reason why the girl had recoiled, but he now took a moment to study her profile. She had gone rigid. Her head inclined, turned slightly away from him, as if listening to something that he could not yet hear even with his finely-honed hearing (aka: the overlarge ears). The glaze in her azure eyes told him that she was elsewhere, concentrating on something more important than the alien boy about to molest her.

_'_Nee-san _is Japanese for 'sister',' _Dren recalled. On those rare occasions when he actually bothered to listen to Sardon's lectures on human culture and languages, he managed to retain some useful information. _'Hmm. So she has a sister, huh? That could prove pretty useful later.' _With this sinister thought in mind, Dren quickly ducked forward to plant a kiss on Lyra's cheek before leaping backwards into the air.

"I'll see ya in the morning, my little angel-in-white!" he promised, just about to teleport away when he caught sight of someone he did not expect to see. "Well, this just got more interesting," he said with a smirk. His golden gaze settled once more on the white-haired girl staring bemusedly after him with her hand on the cheek he had just kissed. He felt his heart race as he disappeared from her view. _'If things go right, I may just get a new Kitty!'_


	3. The Flame In All of Us

_Disclaimer: I do not own _MewMew Power_ or _Tokyo MewMew_. Yeah, like that's a surprise . . . . BTW, I do not own any _Thousand Foot Krutch_ song either. I forgot to include this in my last two chapters. (They're the lyrics at the beginning of each chapter and the chappie titles are the song titles)._

_Crimson: Back again! 3rd Chapter already! Yay! **jumps around, high-fiving invisible people**_

_Dren: Is she going to be okay?_

_Lyra: Probably not._

_Crimson: Oh, by the way, I _do_ own Lyra Roberts, so no stealing her! **grabs Lyra and hugs her tightly**_

_Lyra: Can't breathe! **gasps for air**_

_Dren: **sweatdrops**_

_Lyra: Read . . . On!_

* * *

**Chapter Three–**

**The Flame In All of Us**

**O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O**

_"This world is taking me by storm. It makes me feel like running. This place is making me transform until I feel like nothing . . . ."_

"Why do I have to be here?" Lyra Roberts complained for the millionth time. Corina's grip on her teacup tightened instantly, the red tic at her temple growing ever larger. Zoey twitched, jabbing the mop at the tiled floor with renewed determination. Elliott had long ago retired to the quiet solitude of his laboratory, gladly accepting even Kikki's energetic company rather than remain in Lyra's. Only Bridget and Wesley kept their cool, though they had both lost any desire to soothe Lyra's raw nerves.

"Because I am not letting my own sister be vulnerable to attack by that creep," Renée answered as calmly as ever, referring to the Cyniclon, Dren. Renée still couldn't believe what she had seen the night before. Her own sister–covered with nothing more than a towel–in a confrontation with an alien. Despite her calm tone, she was livid. At whom exactly she was directing her anger towards, even she wasn't quite sure, but she knew _someone _had to pay. Despite her roiling inner emotions, outwardly, she seemed unaffected.

Lyra, however, easily caught the undertone. She picked her head up off the arms she had folded on the table. "So you're mad now? What did that guy do?" she asked her younger sister. With a cock of her head–greatly resembling a confused pup–she quickly regained the fondness of everyone within the cake shop. With a collective thought of _'So cute!'_, the mew mews listened in on the siblings' conversation.

Not one of them could believe that Lyra was the elder of the two. Her appearance was that of a 13-year-old. She _looked_ like _their_ age, which was two years younger than Renée! Just two hours ago, the violet-haired model had arrived at the pink café with her reluctant sister in tow. Needless to say, they were all surprised at the childish appearance of Lyra (as well as her snow-white hair), but none could argue that she was quite beautiful. Her silver hair hung loose down her back, easily reaching her hips and tamed only by a black hat. She wore no makeup, but she didn't need it. The creaminess of her pale skin was like marble–smooth and perfect. A black, zip-up sweater only increased the alabaster tone of her skin. Icy-blue eyes–already bright and luminescent–were further enhanced by a an equally-blue T-shirt which peeked out from the opening in her sweater. On her lower body, Lyra had donned a simple jean miniskirt and had even added a simple pair of black tights which cut off at mid-calf. As far as footwear went, a pair of scuffed sneakers had met everyone's appraising eyes.

"He's trying to take over the world by destroying humankind!" Renée finally snapped. The others jumped a little at the unexpected outburst but weren't too surprised. Lyra had been getting on all their nerves. And here they thought she'd be really sweet. Apparently, the old adage: 'never judge a book by its cover' rang true . . . .

"Why?" Lyra asked innocently. Her blue eyes pierced her younger sister's heated ones. "Why are they attempting to take over the world? There must be a reason," she wondered logically. She had started out asking Renée for answers, but ended up talking aloud to herself. Her eyes got a faraway look as she went through possible explanations in her head. She had to shake herself out of it when her sister's employer magically appeared at her side to fill in the blanks.

"Because their own world is an uninhabitable planet," Elliot Grant started solemnly. His own blue eyes–a darker shade than Lyra's–searched the newcomer's face for any signs of deceit. Finding none, he continued, "The Cyniclons want to destroy humanity and take Earth for themselves to save their people. Originally, they were from Earth, but a catastrophe took place and they were forced to escape to another planet. Unfortunately, they ended up in a world full of danger and death."

By the end of his brief history lesson, Lyra had acquired a confused look in her eye. "Then why not coexist?" she asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, to be honest, it _was_. It surprised her, seriously, how blind some people could be . . . .

For a moment, Elliott showed surprise but it quickly passed. He then shook his head. "No. They have already been ordered to wipe us out. Not to mention the fact that they loathe us. After all, we are slowly throttling the home that they had so longed for. It has gone past the point of negotiation." His eyes were hard; mouth set in a determined line. The last thing he expected to hear was a laugh. But an amused chuckle interrupted the tense moment, replacing the seriousness of the situation with utter confusion and incredulity.

Lyra showed some signs of politeness as she attempted to cover her laughter with a frail-looking hand. With her blue eyes glittering, the girl watched as those gathered around her–even her sister–stared down at her in obvious disapproval. She ignored the pain lancing through her heart at that, having gotten used to such situations. She sighed inwardly.

"It is only _too late _when everyone is dead," she declared with a calm and patient tone. "The intent to kill is insanely-strong. If they really wanted to kill you, then they would have done so," Lyra pointed out. The emotionless mask slipped back onto her face as a wave of emotion washed over her. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. Not even Renée . . . .

"What do you mean?" Wesley inquired. His cool-gray eyes studied the serene features of the girl's face, but received no hint of an answer to his question. A seed of hope had sprouted in his heart when she had said there was still a way to save the world without fighting.

"They are _hurting_ people, Lyra," Renée argued as she beat Elliott to the punch. She towered above her _big _sister and stared gravely down at her. No sympathy for the Cyniclons showed in her face. "That makes them our enemies."

"She's right," Corina verified, taking a meaningful step towards the girl she once held as an idol. "If we pity them, then lives will be lost." The blue-haired girl would have continued, but Lyra's shaking head wiped her mind blank. What was she shaking her head for? Surely she didn't disagree? Who's side was she on, anyway?

"More lives will be lost if you continue on _this_ path," Lyra supplied, refusing to give up on her side of the dispute. "You say they hate you for killing the Earth, but what makes you think Nature is so easy to be destroyed by a mere handful of _humans_?" She had an edge to her voice. The longer she spoke, the more pronounced it became. It was obvious to everyone that the subject was touchy, although no one there knew why. Wasn't this the first time she was hearing about everything? Not to mention, she only arrived in the city last night . . . .

Lyra suddenly shot into a standing position. Her chair skidded behind her for about a foot before crashing into the pink wall at her abrupt movement. She grabbed her shoulder bag and slung it over her head before turning to her sister. "Sorry, but I can't stay here any longer. No offense, sis, but this place is too _cutesy_ for me," she apologized without any real hint of remorse. Before anyone could stop her or even say anything, the white-haired girl disappeared out the door.

After a few moments of an uncomfortable silence, Zoey finally decided to speak up. "Well . . ." she began nervously with an unsure glance at Renée, "I don't really know what to make of her . . . ." The redhead picked at the handle of her broom as she waited for someone else to talk. It was nerve-racking. All this drama! And she didn't even like soaps!

"Tch. She's _so_ not what I thought she'd be!" Corina growled with a huff. Agitation furrowed her brow and the blue mew crossed her arms across her chest angrily. Any adoration she held previously for the unknown sibling of Renée had quickly been drowned out by disappointment and frustration.

"Well, she's not so bad," Bridget defended the girl with a stammer. "Maybe she's just not a morning person?" she offered weakly, earning stares from her fellow mews and boss.

"Whatever she is, _I_ don't like her," Elliott proclaimed. After a last glare at the door where Lyra had departed from moments before, he turned around and went back to his work in the basement. Wesley followed grimly, but glanced back at the door with something akin to sorrow in his eyes. No one saw the odd expression since everyone quickly got back to work, trying to erase the morning's distractions as quickly as possible from their minds.

Renée, however, stood still, not moving her eyes from their spot at the door. She couldn't help but think of all her childhood memories. All the odd little things Lyra would talk to her about. A suffocating sensation tightened in her chest. It was as if she had been reunited with a stranger. Renée couldn't understand Lyra anymore. Nothing had ever made sense with her before, but at least then Renée could still connect with her elder sibling on some level. Now, however, it was as if they were from two completely different _worlds_.

With an indifferent grunt, the purple-haired model turned her back to the door and got back to work. She'd worry about it later. For now, they had to get the cake shop open.

* * *

Lyra stalked through the park, ignoring the incredulous stares of passerby. With her odd hair coloring combined with Renée's exquisite sense of style, she got even more attention than usual.

It irritated her to no end.

With a grateful sigh, she entered the wooded area of the park, successfully leaving behind the bustling fountain area. This was what she preferred: being alone. It beat the hell out of having people staring at her and/or commenting on her frailty in one way or another.

The silent giants surrounding her seemed to dance and lean towards her as she walked amongst them. In her childhood, Lyra would have laughed and danced with the trees, but now . . . .

A gentle breeze wound through the tree trunks to stroke her cheek, interrupting her thoughts. Her head perked up and she rose her eyes to the treetops. She knew she had found what she was looking for when that familiar, sensual voice called down to her.

"So how was your little family reunion?" Dren sneered from his place in the

branches of an elderly tree. Even though he seemed his usual cocky self, something in his voice and posture told Lyra something had happened. Dren's golden eyes widened considerably as the white-haired girl sprang from the ground to effortlessly land on the branch just above him. "H-how did you do that?" he demanded with a stutter, watching the teenager sit down with her back to the trunk and swing her legs on either side of her branch. His throat constricted when he noticed the skirt riding up on her hips, but then disappointment made itself known when his stare moved down to the solid-black tights concealing her alabaster skin. Still, he could easily make out the fit form of her thighs as the odd piece of clothing revealed them. He had to tear his eyes away from them when he heard Lyra answering him.

"It was . . . educational," she admitted awkwardly, stroking a long lock of her hair absentmindedly. "Why are you so down, alien-boy?"

"'Alien-boy'?" Dren repeated, dumbstruck. After a few moments he cracked up, laughing his butt off. He nearly fell right out of the tree, but caught himself just in time. As he wiped the tears out of his eyes, he looked up at a fuming Lyra. Hmm. He certainly liked it when she showed emotion like a regular human. It was too creepy when she didn't. "What's with the nickname? Don't tell me that you _forgot_ my name?!" he faked a whine and an expression of disbelief before breaking into another round of hysterical laughter.

Lyra, meanwhile, watched his foolish display with a look that could kill. "You done yet?" she asked the snickering Cyniclon, annoyance simmering in her voice. Her black nails dug into the sides of her arms, disappearing into the fabric of her sweater as she restrained herself from clawing Dren's pretty golden eyes straight out of his head.

Dren nodded in answer. He wasn't sure if he could talk without giggling like mad again. For some reason, whenever this girl was around, he felt strangely giddy and off-kilter. It was one of the many reasons he had kept visiting her so often in the last couple of days.

"Good," Lyra continued, ignoring the amusement glittering in the boy's yellow eyes. "You gave me a nickname so I thought I'd return the favor," she explained logically. "It's just . . . I can't come up with a good one . . . ." she trailed off into an embarrassed whisper. Her ice-blue eyes drifted away from Dren's incredulous stare, unable to look him in the eye.

"I see," Dren mumbled, getting to his feet. He drifted over to Lyra's branch and sat down directly in front of her. "I haven't even settled on one for you, Cutie-Pie!" With a wink, he flew off the tree to float on his back right next to Lyra. He had his arms behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. The perfect picture of serenity. "What about 'Handsome' or 'My Prince!'?" he offered with a smirk and a quick glance at the girl still on the branch.

She looked thoughtful, as if seriously considering his suggestions, but the expression didn't last long. "I think I'll just stick with 'Dren'," she admitted with a shake of her head. "It suits you better." With a smile, she turned to Dren as he continued to hover near her shoulder. The sudden urge to jump on him overcame her, but Lyra ruthlessly squashed the playful idea. A pale-pink blush stained her cheeks at the uncharacteristic thought. Sure, it would be fun to see his reaction; not to mention, to see if he'd actually catch her and keep her from falling to her death, but it wasn't something an adult should be considering on doing. It was a childish plan so Lyra waited until it passed before allowing herself to breathe again.

"Something wrong?" Dren asked with what sounded like genuine concern. Lyra's breath caught in her throat as she realized just how close he had gotten to her in the few seconds of her daydreaming. His elbow grazed her overhanging thigh as his golden eyes stared up at her.

"N-no," she stammered shyly. With a quick shake of her head, Lyra quickly dispersed her embarrassment and any remaining childish thoughts she had. "I should probably go," she declared reluctantly. She really wanted to stay. The woods around her always calmed her to a great degree and she actually liked the alien's company. But the feelings washing over her were messing with her head and Lyra didn't like that.

"Wait!" Dren cried out suddenly, grabbing her wrist before she could take off. Since Lyra had stood up on the tree branch to leap down, the extra weight on her arm threw her off-balance. She tumbled backwards with a surprised cry . . . and directly into the arms of the green-haired Cyniclon.

"Um. Hi," Lyra greeted bemusedly as she stared up at Dren's remarkably-close face. So, he _had_ caught her . . . .

"Aw. You're falling head over heels for me, aren't you?" even though Dren stated it as a question, he didn't expect any answer. His self-assured smirk told Lyra all she needed to know.

She simply rolled her eyes at him.

His smirk fell.

"What do you want?" Lyra asked, referring to his previous exclamation of "Wait!" which had brought her to being carried bridal-style in the Cyniclon's arms. She tried to twist out of his hold but was too weak to break his powerful grip. And, when she glanced down, all she could see were tree tops. He was bringing her even higher into the sky! Instead of getting mad–like she knew she probably should–Lyra stared down in awe as the grand city slowly shrank to the size of a child's toy. Even if she found the highest rooftop in town, Lyra would never be able to see the sight she was seeing now. It was so gorgeous! With a start, Lyra realized that Dren had been talking. She tore her eyes away from the pretty landscape beneath her and glanced back up at Dren with an apologetic look in her eyes. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Dren heaved a great sigh, rolling his eyes. He had planned to scare the crap out of her by flying so high up, but that plan had failed royally. And when he had answered her question, she had been staring at the disgusting sight shrinking below them. What was he going to do with this girl? "I _said_: I want you to meet me tomorrow at the park. Same time; same place. You got that?" Dren repeated with an exasperated tone of voice.

"Okay," Lyra said as she returned to her sight-seeing. She didn't take notice of the alien's irritated expression as she did so.

_'She'd rather look down at that filthy human town instead of up at wonderful, handsome _me_?!' _he thought heatedly to himself. With a string of barely-concealed curses which Lyra, thankfully, ignored, Dren swooped back down to civilization. He bypassed the park, heading deeper into the city. The air whipped his green hair around his face as rooftop after rooftop zipped below them. The girl in his arms clung tightly around his chest and Dren glanced down in curiosity. Amusement replaced the previous agitation at the expression of glee on Lyra's face. Either joy, the cool wind, or a combination of both colored her cheeks a pale-red. The white of her long hair flashed in the sunlight, streaming behind the pair. Dren's heart skipped a beat when her bright, blue eyes suddenly moved up to him. He shook his head, ridding himself of the unfamiliar sensation as soon as Lyra turned her head away, face a brighter shade of scarlet.

Dren spotted the roof long before Lyra did and skidded to a halt just above it. "Here's your stop, Princess," he announced with a grin, dropping several feet in the air until he could feel the cement beneath his shoes. He set the girl on her own feet before gliding back into the sky once more.

"What, no goodbye kiss?" Lyra inquired jokingly, smirking up at the alien boy. Rolling her eyes at his baffled expression, she said, "It's a _joke_." At the look of disappointment that bloomed across the alien's face, Lyra shook her head.

"That's no fair!" Dren whined, crossing his arms over his chest. With a last pout, he disappeared from view. This surprised Lyra who expected him to at least _say_ goodbye. When she turned around to head into her and Renée's apartment/studio, the air in front of her rippled strangely. She felt it more than saw it. Dren's face appeared in the middle of the whirling winds, but Lyra had barely enough time to comprehend that fact as his lips came crashing down on hers.

A feeling like fire burst in her chest, filling a cavity she didn't even know existed. The burning sensation flushed from her heart to the rest of her body via her veins. Not knowing how to cope with the strange happenings within her body, Lyra decided to focus on the fact that Dren's mouth was pressed right up against her own. The kiss was none too gentle. A possessive and dominant feel tainted what would have been an extraordinary first kiss. Well, not really her first . . . . He _had _kissed her twice before, but nothing like this. Heat flushed her white face a startling shade of scarlet even after he pulled back.

"Gotcha!" Dren exclaimed with a triumphant expression on his face. "Don't forget to meet me tomorrow! G'night, Kitten," he called down to her as he teleported away, this time for good.

Lyra watched as the air ripples disappeared from her view, azure eyes wide. Her fingers gently touched her lips which still burned from the kiss. "Ow!" she exclaimed as the small movement caused the fire in her chest to dance madly. Bringing her hand down to her rapidly-beating heart, Lyra frowned. The sensation had yet to go away. It felt as if she had been rammed by a mad bull. Each breath was getting harder and harder to drag into her lungs. The concrete of the roof jarred her entire body as Lyra dropped to her knees. Panic tried to set in, but Lyra wouldn't have it. She bit her lip and took the pulsating pain, too proud to cry. Then, as abruptly as it had come, the fire died out. The soreness, the pain, all of it had just _left_.

Lyra looked up from her crouched position on the roof, glancing around in confusion. Carefully, she stood up. With a last curious look around at the surrounding buildings, the girl entered the roof's exit situated directly behind her and entered the loft of Renée's (and now her) home. Feeling suddenly tired–with a headache beginning to form behind her eyes–Lyra entered her lavishly-decorated bedroom.

Not bothering to remove any of her clothes, she fell backwards onto her queen-sized bed. She weakly kicked off her shoes before hugging a random pillow. Instantly, she was asleep atop her purple-and-black comforter, having not bothered to pull the covers back. It didn't take long for her dreams to take her. And, in the morning, she would remember only one. A dream where the shadow of some creature came right up to her and, as soon as she went to pet it, it sprang inside of her . . . .


End file.
